Middlesbrough 3-1 BFC, Saturday 10th March 2018

‘Tell everyone you know.  We’ve got the best midfield in the world.’

Welcome to...Middlesbrough of course (Transporter Bridge)

I’ll start with the above chant.  Our vocal element, not usually known for irony or subtlety, were pounding this out to themselves for 5 minutes of the second half. It comes to something when some of our best ‘supporters’ (in the correct sense of the word) are mocking what purports to be the current ‘team’ (in the correct sense of the word).  Of course, it could merely be a sense of nostalgia, you know, for those heady days of long, long ago.  A time when Hourihane, and Scowen, Watkins and Hammill….and even Llllllloyyyyd Isgrove slayed the beasts of the Championship.  A time when bigger (richer) sides were put to the sword in emphatic style.  A time when it didn’t matter who we had up front (ok, it was Winnall), this team could win games.  In short, last season. Instead, what we had 53 mins in was a shambles of a side, three down, bereft of ideas and confidence, and going through the motions towards relegation. Would Boro score 5 or 6?  Well, it depended on how many they wanted. 

It didn't exactly start great.

So much for the half time team talk, nothing had changed since the players returned (ok, Thiam on for Hedges.  As I said, nothing had changed.)  We were AWFUL in that 1^st half.  I’d say the worst this season, though (as much as I’m loathe to say it) I think Boro are a very good side.  In particular, in Adoama Traore, they have a winger nobody could even get near.  So there was no point in trying.  Penniless was skinned at will at left back.  Would anybody help him out?  No. Why risk embarrassing yourself too. Just leave him to it.  And they did.  One little shimmy on the edge of our box, Traore cuts inside and bang!  2-0 and we’re 18 minutes in.  No illusions about winning this game then, and a repeat of Tuesday’s defeat at Cardiff.  I’m not sure we’re good enough to give teams in the top 6 a two goal headstart on their own turf, but that doesn’t stop us trying.

The Boro ultras.

Course, we were losing before I’d even entered the stadium. Was it 48 seconds or something?  It was my fault really, wanting a 2^nd beer at that great little social club on the way to the stadium.  There was no rush – nothing happens in the first few mins anyway.  Stu still had to buy his ticket (£30: bargain.  I bet hard-up Teessiders weren’t paying that in the home end) so as we headed through the turnstiles, a cheer.  Sounded a bit muffled to me.  Was it the Super Reds!?  Had we missed us taking the lead?  Reality dawned as we entered to see repeats on the concourse screens.  F*** me.  1^st minute.  Etc.

It wasn't warm on Teesside either.

We then elected not to leave our half for the rest of the 45, which was great for us, as Boro were kicking towards our end.  The Super Reds are thoughtful like that.  I’m not sure how it remained at two.  I know it wasn’t Townsend diving all over, saving our bacon.  Problies players like Bamford miskicking from superior positions.  

Still, after conversing with our friend from Wakey at half time (he was depressed too), we wasted no time in going three down.  Townsend comes out for a corner, was never going to get there (he’s too bloody short!)…didn’t get there…and the ball comes off Bamford’s knee and trickles in from 6 yards.  I guess we’re going in for some of that there ‘zonal marking’ everyone’s on about, where you don’t mark the man and don’t bother putting a man on the post. (Actually, with Davies and Townsend in goal, would it be worth experimenting with 11 on the line, cos neither can come out and claim a ball.)  Anyway, more grist to my argument; if we stay up (ha ha haaaaaa) we need two new goalkeepers. If we go down, Davies needs a back-up.

Match action.

Three-nil, game over, fans mocking the team (who’re probably unaware of it, given none of the ‘best midfield in the world’ are even on the pitch at this point) and our goal difference looking like it’s about to be blown to pieces.  Then, guess what? We have a shot.  Gardner, from 20 odd yards.  The keeper is so surprised, he lets it cannon off him, and Moore heads the rebound into an empty net.  Christ, I can’t believe it.  We’ve scored.  MOORE’S scored.  (I never thought I’d see the day.)  The fans regale the team with disbelieving chants of ‘we’ve scored a goal, we’ve scored a goal, we’ve scored a goal’, followed by a chortling round of ‘we’re gonna win 4-3.’  It was funnier in the Premiership.  Boro, a la Villa, don't appear to like showing action replays on the big screen of their team conceding. How very petty.

Pulis prowls the touchline.

Boro go to pieces.  The manager throws on Isgrove.  Crosses are whipped into the Boro box.  Moore stands just outside it.  (Stu kept wondering why Moore insisted on standing in the wrong place, not even making an effort to move.  I couldn’t tell him. Anybody?)  With 11 mins to go, (even Mallan is on now), a corner from the aforementioned is curled to the back post.  Moore makes the connection.  He can’t miss.  Oh, he has.  Off the post.  No bad luck about it.  Unmissable – and there goes our chance of salvaging something.  We even have time to have the usual penalty appeal turned down, as apparently it isn’t a foul to pull McBurnie back as he runs around you. 

Pulis prowling, Morais...dejected?  

Yes, I’m not sure how that happened, how we nearly made it to nearly…cos believe me, Boro were head and shoulders above us.  (I thought the same in the game at Oakwell, but we BATTLED that day.)  This is my first view of the Super Reds under the new coach, and I’m far from impressed.  If I was him, I’d be looking on my sat-nav and checking out how to get to Oldham, Fleetwood, Walsall and the rest.  Yet, just to emphasize how s*** you can be in this division and still have a chance of staying up…the others around us lose again and we’re STILL not in the bottom 3.  Just what is the lowest points tally of a team staying up?  I’m sure this season will surpass it, cos I have not seen a bottom 4 (5, 6, 7) as bad as what is being witnessed this season, that’s for sure.  Two flukey wins and we’re safe.  Starting with Norwich tomorrow nite, a free hit if ever there was one.  COME ON YOU REDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Onwards and upwards!

Looking toward the far end.

*** No-one.  Be serious for a minute.

** Isgrove.  Came on for half an hour.  Ran at players, got crosses into the right areas.  No-one there.  What a waste of time.

* Mallan.  Fine, I’m mainly basing this on his renowned deadball delivery, but it IS rather good.  Shame he has to try and find a Barnsley player.  (See above: ‘what a waste of time’.)

Londontykes' MOTM: 1. No-one  2. No-one  3= No-one/Isgrove

Despatches:

I’ll start with Kajagoogoo in midfield.  Who IS that bloke?  Plays like a s*** George Moncur.  Ah, right, it’s our new signing, Krasmuller or somesuch.  If there was a wrong ball to be played, he played it.  He’s either Mike Sheron, on a different level to everyone else, or he’s Mike Sheron.  S***.  (Hopefully the former.)  Gardner and Williams ran around being s***.  When one plays, he’s generally very good.  When the pair of them are there, it’s the opposite.  Two pluses making a negative?  That Cavare must be some player.  Cos Yiadom can’t get a game.  Christ on a bike.  Penniless improved 2^nd half.  Well, he had to.  Good to see Jackson back (against his old team, to boot) though he wasn’t great.  Lindsay wasn’t too bad (this is all relative).  Hedges was dogs***.  Did he even touch the ball before being brought off.  Worst right winger in the world.  Here’s a clue: he can only kick a ball with his LEFT foot.  I’d try playing him on the left.  (I am a true radical.)  Thiam came on at half time.  I told Stu that he charges about, runs at players, gets the fans excited, delivers nothing.  Well, I was right on the last point.  Moore lacked presence, which is impressive for a GIANT.  McBurnie remains our only hope.  But you knew that already.

ps, I f***ing hate the countryside.  Without boring you to death, it took me 3 hours after the match to cover the 16 or so miles from Middlesbrough to north-east epicentre Ferryhill, via public transport.  P***ing it down, as well.  I did though return to The Smoke with three (count ‘em!) pots of pease pudding.  Yum!

Home time.  One last shot.

Drink du jour: A couple of pints of IPA for the Captain, PA for me, and one measly beer for Stu, who was driving back to Oxfordshire later.  (Clever timing – or poor -  Stu was up here for business.)

Away: 1,037.  Decent vocal support, considering the lack of product.

The Damage:
£8 Megabus up
£54 train back
£3 prog
£30 ent
£10.30 two poxy buses from Smoggyville to Ferryhill
= £105.30

The Tunes:
Silver or Lead (Ursula Rucker)
Let Them Eat Chaos (Kate Tempest)
All Melody (Nils Frahm)
The Digging Remedy (Plaid)
Northumbrian Voices (Kathryn Tickell)
Uh Huh Huh (PJ Harvey)

Riverside panorama.

Bristol Rovers 1-1 Scunthorpe United, Saturday 24th February 2018

Bristol Rovers 1-1 Scunthorpe United (att. 8,346)

Welcome to ....

I love this stadium! Whilst the Memorial Ground, Bristol, is #90 of the 92, the wait was well worthwhile. What a crazy ground! A former rugby ground (the gates are still emblazoned ‘Bristol Rugby’) it has more stands than any I’ve seen since the demise of the Manor Ground, Oxford. How ironic that Oxford United these days play in a 3-sided stadium.

The Optimum Drywall Systems Stand.  Probably.

The Memorial is a belter. I got a bus up the Gloucester Road from the city centre (#70 something) and you enter through the gates into the stadium compound, behind the North Stand. Ticket offices right in front, a handy price list for each part of the stadium, bang on. But no, I can’t have a seat in the East or West Stands, sold out. That’s ok. Rovers have several terraces. Do I go behind the goal with the hardcore, beside the East Stand…or maybe go in the away end. No, not the latter. I’m sure I read you can’t get a beer in the away end, and, for once, I may fancy one, since pre-match was spent wandering around shops (shops!) looking for a birthday present or 3. There can’t be many of us here today with a flower-pressing kit in one’s bag.

Take yer pick.  But why are away fans charged more to stand?

Luckily, I didn’t choose a ticket on the West terrace either. This was a family stand, and without any kids in tow, a single gentleman of a certain age may leave himself open to interpretation. East Terrace it was. Plenty of space (hardly a sellout on the terraces, though busy enough). Also, my 1st ever experience of a flat white in a football stadium. I’d been craving one for a couple of hours, though I wasn’t prepared to lower my stance by infiltrating a passing Starbucks. £3 or the price of an 88 page programme. Twas nice tho. Just the thing to wash down a Cornish pasty.

The East Stand towers.

Half time came, save for watching 45 minutes of men trying to control a ball on a bobbly pitch. The rugger buggers may have left, but the pitch still played otherwise. The grass looked barely cut, there were marks all over and the ball bounced at funny angles. Did the groundsman not get the note about it being football this week? (Before I have his family on my case, it could well be two things; Rovers may have requested a dreadful pitch in an effort to give themselves a chance against a far better footballing side in Scunny, or little can be done, a la Newport’s mudbath.)

The teams line up in front of the West Stand.

I went for a wander. I wondered why no-one had a beer and I presumed it was cos our terrace was in view of the pitch. But no, sneak behind the East Stand and a small doorway leads into their social club. Ahhh, bliss, on a chilly day. Half a cider and scores on the telly (the Super Reds are winning two-nil at Brum). I know, I should have had a pint, but I was pushed for time as I’d just had a cheeky climb up the East Stand to check out the view (amazing – inc. most of Bristol!) and had a chat with the steward about why the rugby team now plays at Ashton Gate. I bet their fans aren’t impressed, swapping the homely and characterful Memorial for whatever Ashton Gate purports to be these days. Certainly neither characterful nor homely.

The South Stand (with County Cricket club floodlights behind).

The East Stand is a tall affair which dominates the stadium, despite being only spanning around half of each side of the pitch. Opposite, is a smart modern stand with a terraced paddock, a ‘shelf’ of seats and executive facilities upstairs. I understand why folk think it looks more in place at rugby or cricket, the small arch and underhanging TV gantry giving it an unusual look. Again, this stand doesn’t reach much more than half the pitch and what surely is a temporary stand has been tacked on at the southern end, with the covered family terrace flanking the other side. The South Stand is a small stand with a propped roof which manages to look like a circus tent, coloured in the blue and white stripes of Rovers. Seated away fans share this stand and on rainier days this might be a good idea, as those stood in the open on the southern side of the East Stand leave themselves at the mercy of the elements. Finally, there’s the Thatcher’s (Cider) North Terrace, which, although sizeable in modern parlance, was a good way from the goalline, to allow for Rovers’ conversions following their tries.

The Family Enclosure...a ballboy waits.

Anyway, due to only having a half, I was out in time to see kick off. And what’s this? I’d forgotten all about Scunny having a Barnsley loanee, Cameron McGeehan, in their squad. Bought for a sizeable wad from Luton and now usually warming the bench for Scunthorpe, today he was getting a starting run. Only it took me 45 mins to realise. So, with my beady eye I discerned one perfect throughball (wasted), one intercepted throughball and a wildly sliced shot. Then he was taken off. Presumably this was to protect Scunny’s lead, a scuffed shot from an incisive ball down the left putting them ahead after an hour.

The North Terrace

It didn’t work. The away side, despite being the better team, backed off, and in injury time, a low cross was put in from the right and a defender gets his leg to it thereby inadvertently killing the ball perfectly for Rovers to lash in from close range. A suitably poor goal befitting of this match. If you can, check out the highlights on youtube – even the highlights show how bad this game was. Worth coming to see the stadium, not worth coming to see the football.

The Scunny terrace (227 travellers).

And then a pootle down Gloucester Road. No rush this time, and I walked most of the way back, via a couple of pubs. And although I did enjoy seeing England struggle in the old egg-chasing against 3rd world rugger nation Scotland, there’s only so much I can take of a pub full of interested specimens (even if they did have Leffe on tap). Most pubs were busy, it being 6 Nations and all, but then I found a quiet bar. ‘You not showing rugby?’ ‘No.’ ‘Good.’

Full time.

The Damage:
£18 Ent
£3.50 Cornish pasty
£1.90 Thatcher’s Gold cider (half)
£3 prog
£16.56 travel (Megabus: bargain!)
= £42.96

The Tunes:
Stay Gold (First Aid Kit)
Pure, Impure (Seefeel)
Quique (Seefeel)
Behind the Counter with Max Richter (Various)
Man Alive (Everything Everything)
Prince of Tears (Prince of Tears)
Utopia (Bjork)
Singles 1993-2003 (Chemical Brothers)
Slowdive (Slowdive)
Silver or Lead (Ursula Rucker)

Memorial Ground panorama

1500 tickets gone for the big 'derby'.

The higgledy piggledy nature of the stadium is announced early.

The ticket office.  Fast and efficient.

Welcome to Britain, 2018.

I thought part of the appeal of watching games live was the atmosphere...

The East Stand.

Memorial Ground floodlights.

Looking toward the North Terrace.

Upstairs in the East Stand.

The coolest strip in the land?

Lyon (LOU) 36-10 ASM Clermont Auvergne, Saturday 17th February 2018

Lyon (LOU) 36-10 Clermont-Ferrand (att. 17,375)

Welcome to .....LOU (Lyon Olympique Universitaire)

I hate rugby, but I couldn’t pass this opportunity: go and see a game at Olympique Lyonnais’ old Stade de Gerland. Olympique’s new out of town build is somewhat characterless and not a patch on this beauty, looking classy, surrounded by its faded whitewashed walls. It reminded me of Bordeaux’s old stadium. It’s also been the scene of some historic occasions, such as Euro ’84, the World Cup in ’98, various concerts by the likes of the Rolling Stones…and the on-pitch death of Marc-Vivien Foe 2003. Not all memories can be happy.

The exterior, by twilight.

Whilst the football team appears to have outgrown their former home, the rugby side LOU (Lyon Olympique Universitaire) have made full use of it. With a capacity of about 40,000, it’s much too big for the rugby side and the capacity has been cut accordingly to 25,000. Thankfully, not by knocking down stands and losing its appeal, but rather by judicious use of banners and tarpaulins to cover existing seats. With both upper tiers behind the goals out of bounds, this made for a cosy atmosphere within. And I presume they still have the ability to re-open said areas for bigger occasions?

Upper tier and most of lower tapered off.

As it was, a very decent 17,000 odd turned out to see LOU face local-ish Clermont, who I’d actually heard of, despite trying not to listen to anything about rugby on Radio 5. Turns out they’re lower down than the hosts in this midtable clash. They’d brought a fair few too, most of whom appeared to be in our end. This included a magnificent sixteen-drum ‘orchestra’ who were thankfully stood on the tryline, or whatever it’s called. Anyway, I’d say there was a good 1-2000 away fans, many resplendent with yellow flags.

Some of the drum crew at half-time.

The match wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, though I’d been told by my partner I wasn’t allowed to slag off the game whilst there. (I’d been to rugby once before, at Harlequins. 18 of us went and 12 stayed under the stand at half time. I even went for beers in an effort to miss some of the ‘action’, but was back in my seat within two minutes, such was their efficiency.) I digress. This match didn’t just have piles of big blokes lying on top of a ball at the other end of the ground. There was passing, kicking, attacking. What with an atmosphere too, I was almost enjoying myself (but I had a beautiful stadium to sit and stare at).

Rugby.  Big blokes pushing each other.  No ball to be seen.

Still, though, the match was decided by a couple of moments of extraordinary ineptitude in the first half. The Clermont left back (I know they’re not left backs in rugby, but god knows what they are called) trotted back to his line as a ball was launched his way, and while he dawdled and then messed up the ball control (these egg-shaped balls don't half bounce funny), the opposition pounced for a try. Then, not to be outdone, the Clermont right back (yeah, yeah) did exactly the same. 12-3 down at half time and that was with them playing well.

The view from behind the goal.

The game became a bit of a rout, but we stayed till the end. Did I say what a beautiful stadium it is? You’d better get yourself there. T1 tram to Debourg, then a 15 minute walk. Or even a metro direct to its own Stade de Gerland stop. Easy there, easy back. A far cry from the crawl back from the football stadium, which is closer to the airport than the city centre. And in true rugby fashion, they have a massive beer (and food) tent for all, while tickets are easily picked up at the door, €20 for a seat behind the goal, or €15 if you’re prepared to stand right at the front – next to the drummers!

The Damage (for 2):
€20 Ent (x2)
Free programme
= €40

Didn’t eat: had already victualled at the legendary Brasserie Georges!

Stade de Gerland panorama

A Lyon lion.

Behind, behind the goal.

A grand entrance in the twilight.

Fans enter the arena.

The teams line up.

Fans behind the goal.

Fencing...a remnant of the football?

Clermont fans and drummers.

What purports for half time entertainment.

Every drum needs tassles.

Capacity-reduction method, Lyon-style.

The view from behind the posts.

Welcome to the Thunderdome.

A crowd transfixed.